Read Online A Fatal Twist of Lemon by Patrice Greenwood - Free Book Online Page A

hour. We had no more than three groups booked at once, and none at all from three to four. The bookings we did have were small, mostly two or three customers.
    â€œMaybe tomorrow will be better,” I said.
    â€œSpeaking of tomorrow, you had put a cap on the grand opening at sixty.”
    â€œThat’s right. Are we booked up?”
    â€œNo, we’re at nineteen, including your invited guests. What I wanted to know was should we cap it at forty-eight, and not use the dining parlor?”
    I bit my lip. “Yes, I guess we’d better.”
    The phone rang again. Kris answered, punching the button for the business line with a perfectly manicured, silver-frosted fingernail.
    â€œWisteria Tearoom. May I say who’s calling? Thank you, please hold.” She looked up at me. “It’s channel seven. Want to take it?”
    I shook my head, and escaped downstairs with the tally sheets while Kris sent the call to my voicemail. In the kitchen Julio glanced up from glazing a beautiful poppyseed bundt cake.
    â€œTwenty-six,” I said, sticking a tally sheet in a clipboard mounted on the wall by the door.
    â€œOkay.” Julio nodded, but his brow creased in a slight frown.
    â€œWe may get some walk-ins,” I said hopefully.
    In the butler’s pantry I found that Dee and Vi had arrived and were helping Nat fold the last of the clean linens. Relief flooded me at the sight of them.
    â€œGood morning!” I said, trying for cheer.
    â€œMorning!” Dee smiled. “Any interesting developments?”
    â€œAh—none that I can think of. Here are today’s reservations.”
    Dee pounced on the tally sheet and started getting out china and place settings for the setup trays. I watched Vi, who was uncharacteristically quiet. Usually I think of her as “Vi for vivacious,” but that was not her present mood.
    â€œFires today?” Dee asked.
    â€œYes,” I said. “Looks like it may rain.”
    I beckoned Nat out into the hall and led her down to the gift shop, where I put the last copy of the reservation tally on the hostess stand, next to the diagram of the parlor alcoves. “Can you play back-up hostess? I’ll be here as much as I can, but I’ve still got some calls to return.”
    â€œOf course,” she said, looking at the sheet. “Looks like it won’t be too busy.”
    â€œNo, unfortunately.”
    â€œNow, don’t you get discouraged. This is only your second day, remember? It takes months to get a restaurant going.”
    â€œYears,” I said. “Or mere weeks for it flop to right out the gate.”
    â€œIt won’t flop. Chin up, Ellen.”
    I met her gaze. Neither of us mentioned the elephant in the dining parlor.
    I gave her a smile I didn’t feel and headed back down the hall, passing Dee, who was carrying a set-up tray of china and linens. I peeked into the butler’s pantry and found Vi absently sorting the tiny silver teaspoons and knives that I’d washed the night before.
    â€œVi? Could you come upstairs for a minute?”
    She glanced up and nodded, following me. I led her through Kris’s office to the small storage room behind it, where I picked up a big basket filled with tea samplers—three varieties of tea, enough to brew one pot of each, tied up with pretty ribbons—that I’d been putting together in my spare time.
    I handed the basket to Vi. “Could you take these down to the gift shop?”
    â€œSure.”
    â€œBut first come with me for a minute.”
    I led her out, past Kris who was on the phone, and down the hall to a small sitting area I had set up by the window at the end of the hall. This was at the front of the house, overlooking the garden and the street. The space wasn’t really practical for office use, but I wasn’t about to let a window go to waste, so I had set it up with two comfy leather chairs and a low table, as a place to